I am in the business of being an invisible cow.
Daily on my way towards one task or another, I find myself driving past this field of cows.
There is nothing remarkable about the lot, standard would describe them perfectly. Acting in accordance to how they were built, chewing on rye grass, swatting the horseflies with their tails and caring for their young.
It hardly seems to me that they move much at all, standing for hours on end in the same position. I have grown so accustomed to these cows that as I drive by, I take no more notice to them, they have simply melted into the landscape.
I find it alarming to say and would dare to venture I am not alone with my disregard for these cows. They bring me no comfort, but still are they not good mothers tending to their calves?
Do they not provide milk for their growing babies, teach the young to find shade in the heat of the late afternoon, to listen for the cries of the coyotes and the dangers that come with the sounds of the pack?
Tending to their own daily task, with no great importance, they do not pick up the dirty clothing lying about; sweep under the bed and into the corners of the room nor do they endlessly sacrifice their time and talents for the ungrateful grunts of a teenage child.
I find myself in correlation, in sorts, a kinship for these cows in the field, never finding the ending to my day it repeats itself in slow motion, hours travel by… yet I have moved mere inches if at all in my own home.
Tending to my family providing food, shelter and advice, all is taken for granted as they pass by me, attending to their own agenda, I have melted into the landscape. I have become an invisible cow.